There are materials enough in every mind....

[biiowiired]

Who| The Ψiioniic biiowiired & YOU
What| Psii can't sleep and tries to fill in time he would normally spend coding. See Psii doing more than one activity if you wish. Also there are tribbles.
Where| Anywhere in the Tribute Tower. Pick a specific location if you wish.
When| jan 03 and after. Pick a date and put it your subject header.
Warnings/Notes| language (always with Psii), hypomania, talk of death, attempted animal harm (thanks Jason), mention of buckets in relation to troll reproduction (it's canon i swear)

Whether Psii wanted to admit it or not, he only holed himself up half the time. The other half, he needed conversation, some sort of social contact. Psii was a troll of opposites and extremes, avoiding people only to pester them two hours later. After resting from the mental trials of dying for the first time, he finally left the stifling confines of his respiteblock, thoughts racing.

He couldn't sleep, weighed down by the experience of dying only to come back still a slave in Panem. He couldn't code, the Peacekeepers being on the lookout for hackers. He couldn't speak his mind, when even his outspoken preacher friend told him to lay low. So Psii careened down a sleepless path of quietly frenetic activity with whatever else he could get his hands on. At all hours of the day and night he could often be seen doing two things at once to stave off perceived boredom, heavily shadowed mismatched eyes flicking back and forth with equal attention. His lip curled around his fangs in deep thought.

He was a rodent spinning its wheel and going nowhere fast.

Reading; anywhere

He would sit in the common area, the bar, the rooftop garden, surrounded by piles of books from the library. He was rapidly familiarizing himself with the flora and fauna of this planet. Know thy enemy and all that. He'd also checked out e-books and videos, though he opted to insert them in his communicator rather than hog the television in the common area. It chattered information away, mostly general overviews of past arenas.

Psii was mostly interested in what environments and hazards the Gamemakers preferred, rather than individual track records. Suspicious of everyone though he may be, he wasn't ready to turn on his fellow Tributes unless they attacked him outright. He'd seen infighting among slaves in squalid conditions, but it was more useful to work together, at least temporarily. Anyone with half a brain could see that, even without being a fucking genius like him.

He'd hear footsteps nearby and stop drumming fingers on a book to point to some video or other, his words lisping out rapid-fire, "Look, they had an arena in a retail complexth, what the fuck...."

Drawing; anywhere inside

He procured some paper and began to frenetically scribble equations and fractals in red and blue pen. He had enough math and physics to occupy himself without showing too much intelligence. Flight patterns and gravitational calculations were ok, but programming languages were not. He wasn't going to be arrested and executed like that hacker Brainiac. He spent too much time laying low under the Alternian Empire to be caught by mere humans. His hands would tremble slightly, mirroring his head filled with thoughts shouting over each other even without prophetic voices muscling their way in.

Soon he had a growing pile of intricate but ultimately useless chicken scratches strewn about him. He could come up with new codes in his head, but no way was he putting down on paper what could get him caught.

Knitting/weaving; anywhere

His interest in fractals and geometry lead him to knitting, weaving, anything he could teach himself with minimal tools. This also kept his hands steady whenever they would be hit with shaking from his racing thoughts. He perched his communicator on a table to display some tutorials and got busy creating anything but clothes. His interest lay in repeating loops of shapes, not wearable couture. Fashion was Dolorosa's deal, not his.

A simple but oddly soothing esoteric yarn atrocity grew from clever scarred fingers to cascade over his knobby knees to the floor. He could see himself making a hobby out of this, if only it wasn't so useless to him. Perhaps he could find some way to work a code in it, but he hesitated to risk that.

Tribbles; anywhere inside at night

Psii was on his way towards the living blocks. Everyone else was asleep, but he was still on a nocturnal clock, awake as a live wire. It was quiet enough that any untoward noise would be noticed, even by someone who wasn't as paranoid as Psii. A soft coo ululated from the wall.

"Mother Grub'th thecond thphincter, what ith it now...." he groan-whispered to himself.

He stepped lightly to the room on the other side of the wall. Something sat in a corner nearly out of sight next to some crumbs. Certainly no one without nightvision would have noticed, but for the cooing. The furry ball didn't run when he appeared or when he took a step closer. He blinked, then looked around trying to find someone to quickly wave over so they could explain this mystery to him.

Gaming; District 9

Psii missed his husktop with the besotted ache of a stranded lover. His codes, his games, his porn was on there. Though he was hesitant out of pure spite to do what the Capitol provided for him, the siren's call of technology pulled him to the gaming consoles in his district's common area. The heart-racing virtual combat and hidden strategy of a first-person shooter should occupy his over-active mind. He fired up the highest-rated game he saw and wrapped long grey fingers around a controller, adjusting to a shape that was similar-but-not-really to ones he'd used at home.

"....Wow thith shit'th primitive. What kind of two-bit engine are they uthing for thethe graphicth?"

Comments

Tribbles

[carnagecarnival]

He's just making on walking by. All this time and he still runs on night timing too. It'd be hard not to, what with getting reset every damn death. Other than that, he's approaching fine again, horns back and all.

Approaching, but maybe not so close as he thinks, when he sees the Psiioniic a second too late and the Psiioniic sees him and he can't just turn around.

He spots the tribble. His face goes from antlerbeast in frontal vehicular lighting to entirely blank. Mostly because he can't reconcile quite how he feels seeing this troll holding a tribble. Again.

[biiowiired]

Having convinced himself that this fuzzy creature wasn't going to bite his hands off, Psii had taken to just standing and listening to it purr. He was half-crouched to pick it up before he knew it. He shouldn't have let it lull him into a false sense of security; he was in a communal hivestem filled with gladiatorial slaves. He didn't look up until a tall someone was too close to avoid.

At the sight of Initiate, Psii froze too, shoulders tensing. Then, slowly, as if sudden movements would set off a predator's instincts, he bent further and scooped up the furball. His arms circled tight, clutching the fuzzy coo machine to his chest as he quickly rose again. He'd already dealt with one asshole trying to kill the tribble(s) he found. He didn't need another, even if tribbles were technically pests.

"It'th mine. You can't have it. Or eat it."

Upon closer inspection, he'd seen it had stripes. Yep, definitely keeping it. If he couldn't have bees here, this was the next best thing.

[carnagecarnival]

It's the most promising reaction he's managed to pull from the Psiioniic since he got here. Still of fear, still not exactly welcoming, but less angry. Less fit with threat. So far.

His hands go up, palm empty, meaning no harm. "NO. I wouldn't. GOT SOME OF MINE OWN, ACTUALLY," He assures, quick. Got the first of theirs togetherlike, by Terezi's gifting to them.

And that's when he realises the tribble he's seeing is being exactly the same. Stripped black and yellow, like the huamn's bees.

"She got you that one, Terezi did. LONG TIME AGO. Made all motherfucking purchase lain down at with Pasha. IF ANYONE TRIES AT TO TAKE IT, CAN BE CALLING ON FOR THEFT. That tribble ain't no one's but yours."

[biiowiired]

Initiate had his hands up in the universal salute of harmlessness. Psii understood gestures, like his own universal middle-finger salute of fuck you. The repeated sign, just like in the arena, wasn't lost on Psii. He was not only in his right mind here in the Tribute Tower, but also one for seeing patterns. Precognition had ingrained that into him. Initiate's knee-jerk reactions to him had always been ones of placation. Psii didn't like to think of himself as even an ex-moirail to a clown, but there it was, as undeniable as one of his visions.

Psii frowned, hugging the tribble tighter. It still cooed uncomplainingly despite being smothered. Good tribble, best pet. He'd have to check on tribble lifespans later, as he thought he was looking at a descendant of the original crop. It wasn't bee-colored, but it was mustard-colored, and that was close enough. He didn't realize how badly he needed something like this until he almost literally stumbled upon it.

"Well you had no problem thcrambling my thponge in the arena, tho exthcuthe me if I'm afraid you might dethide my little coobeatht would make a great thnack," he raked caustically.

[carnagecarnival]

If he knew the Psiioniic had already guessed of their past, no-longer-future, relationship, he might step differently.

As it is, he just frowns and says, "I DIDN'T. Told you I motherfucking didn't. GOT NO INTEREST UP WITH FUCKING AROUND IN YOUR SPONGE. Side effects of them is being getting all a sorts of woozy and fucking ill, making wonder by what all happened. YOU'D REMEMBER THAT, IF ALL NOTHING ELSE. And you could see it up on the recaps, if you like."

The Psiioniic's not going to believe him. Some way or other he ought to get used to that. For now all he can do is stick to that repetition and ever careful explanation. Very careful, for explaining to the Psiioniic that he didn't scrambled, but rather, his panic attack was all being natural of his own would probably not go over so well. (Then, when had anything?)

"WHERE'D YOU FIND IT?" He asks, nodding his head toward the Tribble. "Just right here...?"

[biiowiired]

Nothing went well with these two, not even casual inquiries about tribbles.

"I'm not telling you where it came from," he said cagily. "I'm not thelling out my fuzzy coo machine'th hiding thpotth. I'm keeping it and feeding it delithiouth protein. I'm going to luthuth the fuck out of thith furball, and you can't do jack shit about it."

When in doubt, always keep information about friends from highbloods. (The tribble suddenly elevating to friend status.) Somehow he assumed the Initiate would tell on him, so keeping the tribble was not only comforting, but spiteful.

"Look, you didn't have any right putting out thothe chucklewhatthitth even after you wathted that barkbeatht thing. What the hell maketh you think that'th a great idea around a pthionic mage?" A jumpy psionic mage. Intrusion into his mind coupled with possible stupidity was a double dose of crimes Psii personally couldn't stand. "You have no buthineth getting handthy with my fearth. Thothe are private."

[carnagecarnival]

"I KEEP TELLING YOU I DIDN'T, IT WAS JUST--" He stops. Every word he speaks gets about the twisting. He's only under very specific circumstance felt so trapped at for how to communicate. He sighs and says, more to himself, "I ain't ever going to be able to talk to you am I?"

His head is already down. He looks at the floor when he talks to the Psiioniic. But now, he just closes his eyes altogether.

"I'M SORRY. Just asked cause, when he left, they took his things. CLEAR THE ROOMS OF THEM WHAT'S GONE. There wasn't nothing left, so I just wondered..." Wondered if there was more than the golden goat hanging on his collarbone. "BUT IT DON'T MATTER. Ain't a motherfucking thing I ought be concerning myself up with. GLAD YOU'RE TAKING CARE AT OF IT." Hopefully, it would make him happy as all was of memory. Hesitantly, he adds, "Only going to say, I wouldn't be feeding them. NOT BECAUSE AS YOU SHOULD LISTEN ON TO ME. But the Avoxes got harder time cleaning with all too many. THEY'LL GET UP IN THE SHIT HARSHLIKE IF THEY DON'T BE DOING THEIR JOBS. So for them maybe..."

The Psiioniic can't fault him for that can he? Watching out for the Avoxes? Who knew. Maybe. Probably.

[biiowiired]

"At leatht in the Capitol you won't violate the privathy of my mind whenever you get clothe enough. Talk all you fucking want." Psii, missing the point, news at 11.

Psii didn't hold hope (or dread?) that any of Helmsman's things were still around. The tribble could have scuttled away to avoid the purge. It had probably been hiding in the vents or something.

"Don't talk about them like you know what being a thlave ith like. You don't. You don't know what it'th like to have overtheerth breathing down your neck even when you thleep, finding exthcutheth to punish you becauthe it'th fun, becauthe they can. You haven't been bought and thold becauthe other trollth think it'th their right to own you, like thomeone ownth furniture or a computer." He took a shuddering breath through his nose. The tribble's coos helped keep him from waxing on about a past he'd rather not think about, and possibly being flagged as an insurgent.

"I'll athk them mythelf how many I can keep," he finally concluded.

He was going to shoot for the maximum allowed, of course, but no more than that. There was a reason his own block was disturbingly spotless ever since he found out what an Avox was, and he never left a mess behind in the food preparation block. Though he was naturally messy with anything other than precious electronics, he had enough practice himself to make his block look like no one lived there at all. So disturbed was he about Avoxes, he hadn't even tried putting up a poster or leaving a jacket on a chair.

[carnagecarnival]

He's not surprised when the Psiioniic turns his words on him. He simply lets them roll over (riddling their holes up in him), and he doesn't say a word. He keeps his head down.

An overseer breathing down his neck. Being sold off as goods to be used. Watching as his fellow Avoxes burned, because who cared right? Who cared about criminal slaves. He remembers watching Holly bleed out through her neck. He remembers Starkiller, who, in all his rage wasn't here anymore. Justin in all his stubbornness. Cecil in his reach for hope, for truth despite it's cost. Gone, gone. The other Jane, whom he'd never even heard speak, but he knew her voice, he would bet anything it matched that of his ex-kismesis. Jane, who was so powerful, with a constant shadow of she who would kneel. Just as he had before Eridan, teeth later grit as his useless dud-fins were sawed off with a skate blade, the only thought on his mind through the pain of it, how would he clean all this mess up?

But slavery on Alternia was beyond him. It was the one thing he could rely on his blood for. No one wanted a highblood slave. He never felt the sting of a whip. He had his strife. Those weren't the same.

"...I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE FOR YOU, YOU'RE RIGHT," He says. "But I know how it is to be an Avox. I SERVED ALONGSIDE THEM, WITH TONGUE CUT JUST THE SAME. Many of them, friends of mine what ain't extant no more, served as well. DIDN'T LIVE A SLAVE UP ON ALTERNIA. But I still motherfucking care about the Avoxes."

He bows his head. Gratitude, subservience, he doesn't care anymore.

"SO, THANK YOU, FOR HEEDING THAT. It means much."

[biiowiired]

Psii's eyes were wide with horror, but mostly anger. It wasn't the punishment that surprised him. He'd seen firsthand the worst in trolls after all, and could plot out a similar spectrum of cruelty for the Panem humans once he learned more about them. Psii already knew that Avoxes had their minds messed with, that Tributes had no privacy, that rebels were brutally executed on the Tribute Tower's doorstep simply for hacking. Psii didn't rule out torture and imprisonment either. The Capitolites talked about Avoxes like they were furniture, Tributes like they were pets, and Psii could guess what went on behind closed doors.

"No one detherveth to be owned."

Sometimes Psii made stupid faces at where he thought hidden cameras might be, but other times he curled up on his makeshift pile holding onto his horns for dear life as he tried and failed to rock himself to sleep. He felt sickened here, but nowhere near as destitute as he once had been. He'd put that behind him, and even hated his past self for being weak enough to be enslaved in the first place. On Alternia, if something bad happened to you, it was your fault.

"But if you think that will make me pity you, you're barking up the wrong frond nub. It lookth like you're making fun of me when you bow, quit doing that. Look me in the eye like an equal, even if I don't like you."

It was all he ever wanted, to be seen as equal, to not be judged by the color of his blood. If the revelation of Initiate's Avoxing called up tells about his past behavior, like bowing, Psii didn't show it. Psii wanted Initiate to put the Avoxing behind him, too. He wanted to be suspicious of Signless's clown moirail forever, because that was a lot better than killing him for invading his mind or watching him think of himself as less than a person. To Psii, that included bowing.

[carnagecarnival]

He's wrong. He's wrong, he's wrong, the Psiioniic doesn't know anything about him. He does deserve it. And there's no way, no motherfucking how inexplicable, that he will ever fucking be worthy of looking at the Psiioniic like an equal.

But it's the Psiioniic's order. Being the Avox with the Psiioniic was safer. The Avox wasn't the highblood. The Avox wasn't even that what went underneath the broken shells. The Avox accepted, did not speak out, did as told. The Avox was made to please, something the Initiate did not have on his own. But an order meant a need to follow it. It meant fearing that eye contact, and so it meant to opposing conditions once again. He hates that. Like when his other self tried to make him write and sign and he couldn't, he wasn't allowed, he wasn't supposed to communicate and it clawed him up inside. But he did.

"NOT ASKING YOUR PITY. Only told so that you may understand why I'm asking for care given to them motherfucking mutes. WASN'T NO INTENTION MINE TO MOCK."

His head has risen up, his eyes are off the floor. But meeting Mituna's-- The Psiioniic's eyes proves far more difficult. It's too direct. Direct didn't help him here. He wouldn't do it all if it wasn't command. Maybe if he can just empty them, make them blank as all they were then, a wall between himself and the world, hiding what the Psiioniic didn't want to see while giving exactly what was wanted.

"I will leave you be and you won't motherfucking hear of it again. APOLOGIES MINE FOR THE TROUBLING OF YOU."

He hopes that, with bow held back, will do. In either case, he anticipates dismissal.

[biiowiired]

Something was wrong. Psii wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't so personally familiar with wiping expression from his face for the sake of hiding something. Slaves had no armor, no protection, no paint. Some had learned the art of sculpting their faces like grey stone, creating illusion where weakness might show. Psii could do that sometimes, but his hands usually betrayed him by shaking or fidgeting.

"Thomething'th wrong."

Too late, his brain-to-mouth filter failed, and he realized he'd said that aloud. He tucked part of his lower lip under his fangs, not quite able to put his finger on it. Psii felt like the air was uncanny somehow, but Signless was always better at this empathetic shit. Psii brazenly said what he felt, except when he couldn't put it into words.

"....Nevermind."

He didn't think to dismiss him. That was something highbloods did.

[carnagecarnival]

For a second his shield cracks. It's a wince and a wonder, fearing this motherfucker sees through him, hoping he does. He's stone-still, stiff all over, as he holds his breath in wait. The second passes.

Nothing's changed.

His eyes close and he breathes out. Nothing's changed, and he doesn't know what to feel anymore. He almost wishes being The Avox discounted feeling, but it doesn't, it never did, not even when it was real.

But he hesitates before leaving. "WHAT'RE YOU THINKING BE WRONG?" So slips the words through his teeth. "I mean--" Just go. While you can. "NEVERMIND, YEAH." He turns, and starts away on his own. "Goodbye, brother."

[biiowiired]

If he hadn't asked that question, if he hadn't probed him further before beating a hasty retreat, Psii would have left it alone. After all, he didn't know the clown well enough to read him. But now his mind was working furiously as Initiate turned, scrabbling what he knew together about Avoxing. It wasn't much, and the lack of knowledge frustrated him.

"Quit bullshitting me," he burst out. Then quieter, "You're hiding thomething. You can't uthe that two-bit trick on me. You can't hide your fathe for shit. I've been a thlave a lot longer than you."

Sad, that he'd come to almost bragging that he'd been a slave. What didn't kill him just made him.... more bitter, he guessed.

"Go if you want, but I'm thtill watching you. Not that it maketh a differenthe," he added dourly, hand gesturing vaguely through the air to indicate hidden cameras and mics.

[carnagecarnival]

"I DON'T MOTHERFUCKING LIE," He says. "Not ever. IF AS YOU ASK, I'LL TELL. Whatever it is you think as I'm hiding for." But only if he asks. If he ain't asked, he won't tell. He doesn't want to spend more time saying things if ain't nobody wants to hear them.

He's not even sure if all the Psiioniic will want to hear that. Probably not. He hates so much of the doubt this brings upon his Mituna. This is some sort of curse on his memory, he swears it is. But the Psiioniic ain't actually doing no thing wrong.

And he's right, of course. The Psiioniic has been a slave far longer. He's not all sure as he can even count as a slave. He just wanted the other Avoxes left be.

He thinks on what the Psiioniic might have taken for falsehood. It doesn't take long. "I AM NOT YOUR EQUAL. You're a motherfucking hero, a point of hope to them like you, and a good person. I WILL THINK IT NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY TO ME. But watch me if you must. IT MEANS LITTLE." Like what was said. He was well and used to being observed.

[biiowiired]

"Heroth alwayth die terribly. I'm jutht a troll who wanted thometing better. You know how well that went."

He didn't bother hiding the bitterness in his voice like he did around Signless and his crushed dream. It gave Psii a strange comfort to know that he wasn't alone, that someone else knew his future, even if he'd rather a clown know nothing about him whatsoever.

"Pointleth and thtupid to call me that. It only remindth me of how I failed," his voice wavered ever so slightly, and he glared away at the wall as if it had personally offended him. "Thtop it. It'th not winning you any pointth."

[carnagecarnival]

He does know how it went. Oh how many times had he screamed at the Signless over what he was doing, how it would damn. And it did. But not doing so wouldn't have helped none either.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Ain't gotten saying anything what all has won no points none." Unless he's wrong there too. "JUST FIGURING TO SAY WHAT I'M MEANING TO MOTHERFUCKING SAY. Might as well, right? BE ALL MOTHERFUCKING WELL AS TO JUST DO WHAT AT ALL AS I'M BEING DONE BY. But okay. SHIT BOTHERS YOU, I'LL TRY."

He's not very good at shutting his trap up on his own. Very good at having it done on him, but calling silence for himself is for laughsassin missions.

He goes to speak, hesitates, almost doesn't say it. That probably would've been better if he managed not, but of course he didn't. "Fail or not, it helped." And this time he really does turn to go. "GOOD LUCK WITH THAT THING." He says, meaning the tribble. But really, some luck for just about everything wouldn't hurt.